Dying Wish

Once there was a traveler,
Who roamed both far and wide,
His only company was himself,
And a secret his cloak did hide.

For 'neath the patch'ed overcoat,
And under the straggly cloak,
No man had ever lived to see,
The scars upon his throat.

For once he lived, but does no more,
His life's blood spilled upon the floor,
His unlife powered by his dying wish,
Just one more last lover's kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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